Cinnyris

A Man Who Escaped the Caribbeans

A man, probably in his fifties enters before Luke. His tall, well-built figure and his intense grey eyes look very, very familiar. He's wearing one of those colorful Hawaiian shirts.

I really hate Hawaiian shirts.

Luke enters after him, carrying twice the number of bags that he left with. With a wide, dimpled smile on his recently tanned face. The only thing that will make this situation look even more absured is that light shirt he is wearing, which dosen't really suit the freezing weather we are facing right now.

Alliance with the other pack my ass.

I walk towards him, my hands folded on my chest. I couldn't squint my eyes at him though, his face is so attractive, and I get softer when I see such a sweet dimpled smile. He reach out for a hug, yet finds nothing between his muscular arms, I didn't take one step closer.

" I believe you told me that she's much nicer." The man said, sprawling his aging, yet still in shape body on the nearby sofa.

The sofa that I waited hours for my mate on. Who showed up with a man that looks like he just escaped the Caribbeans. My mate, who lied to me.

Somehow they both manage to successfully vex me.

I pull Luke by his arm, trying to be as rough as my cold, pale, and in this case, useless hands allow me to.

I must say, Im a disgrace to werewolves.

We are not really known for our paleness and weakness

I lead him to my room, not able to think of a better place to discuss this issue in.

"Where exactly did you go? Who is this man that carries some of your features? AND WHY DID YOU LIE TO ME?" That's how me hysterical series of accusing questions reaches him.

He dosen't say a word.

I know him, and I know, that in this 30 seconds pause, he's arranging his set of words into the most comprehensible, and reasonable phrases he can put his story into. But I don't wait for him to answer. I simply storm out of the room.

I completely understand how naive my actions are, but this isn't the first time he lies to me, or tricks me. And it really hurts, it hurts more than you think it dose.

I head to the tiny library, hoping that Luke dosen't recognize it's existence. In there, I find the old man rearranging the books back to their shelfs. We exchange a small, polite hello. After that, I pull 'The Generation of the Red' out, knowing that it is the only book that can seize my attention and distarct me enough. Even though I've already read some.

I flip through the pages, yet I understand nothing about the identity of the Red Wolf that I saw in my dream, but a few notes interest me.

It seems that, if the owner of the wolf dies, the wolf directly transfer itself into the next one, without any interest in the owner's age. It doesn't matter, even if the owner is just a baby. The wolf's identity and gender change though, even the age change so it can fit into the owner. It seems that, the Red Wolf comes out as a similar character to it's carrier, but the severity of any emotions might make a greater impact on the wolf than on it's owner. That's why it is thought that the Red Wolf is very close to the carrier.

And, like a Phoenix, the Red Wolf dies with it's owner, only to be revived in the new carrier's body, with a new personality.

Good, or bad. Bad or good. It depends on the person.

I spend hours reading about these things, until ten o'clock, to be exact. The old man seems to be disturbed by the fact of my late settling here, yet he can't find the proper way to tell me that he wants to leave. Ten minutes later,I exit the room, a little afraid of what I'll find out there.

I head to Lucille's, slightly timid because I left Venice with her for so long. She didn't complain though. I take a rather sleepy Venice to my room, trying to not make a single sound. I literally tiptoe my way to my room, considering the fact that Luke's room is directly in front of mine. I manage to walk in, close the door and lay Venice on the bed, who fell asleep on my way here. After that, he knocks the door.

It seems that, tiptoeing wasn't enough to keep him away, all because of that mate- smell thing. I can smell that strong, yet delicate pomegranate scent. Everywhere.

I didn't open. He knocked, and Knocked, and knocked, yet the fierceness of the knock didn't increase. He didn't lose his temper.

"I know your in there, Cinnyris. Please open the door. I just want to talk." He say in a calm, tired voice.

I don't respond.

I deep, muffled sigh reaches me through my rigid door  tightening my rigid heart. I still don't respond, I don't even open the door. Facing him seems to be the hardest thing I cand do at the moment. It even wins over my craving for his  face.

I enter my bathroom, and for no particular reason, I throw my hairbrush on the floor, a suffocated scream follows, giving this absured actions of mine the most perfect dramatical ending. I pause for a second, admiring the fact that I managed to throw an anger fit and did not explode.

I did that while ripping toilet paper.

Venice came in, almost stepping on the broken half of the comb. Fortunately, she missed it. She sat by me and started ripping the toilet paper with me in a calm matter. No one spoke.

We kept going for a straight half an hour, until the toilet paper seized to exist, and Luke's knocking stopped. We headed to bed afterwards, and somehow, I managed to sleep, knowing that at least, I have Luke back, and he's safe and sound.